Back at '91
by BellaMarizo
Summary: That faithful night at 1991, the night his friendship of with his brother changed forever, Danny met someone who would end up to be one of the most important person in his life. DanMac friendship.
1. Chapter 1

He hits the steering wheel with the heel of the palm of his hand, cursing loudly. It's the middle of the night, his plans just shot to hell and it's all because his brother sided with his friends over his own flesh and blood. To say that Danny was pissed off would have been an understatement. Another string of cusses spills between his gritted teeth. He clenched his jaw and gripped the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white. Releasing most of his rage onto his car.

He really shouldn't be surprised with what had just happened. The one night he actually makes some effort to be one of the guys for his brothers' sake is like every other night of the week: Tanglewood first. He gave them the benefit of the doubt and thought that nothing bad might happen. He thought he'd be spending some quality time with his big brother Louie. Maybe spend the weekend in Atlantic City; drinking, gambling, maybe even picking up a couple of girls. Henormally wouldn'thave gone along with them, seeing that 'them' meant the gang. He hated Louie's friends, especially Sonny Sassone. But Louie actually invited him, he thought it would be different. He thought he actually wanted him to be there. But look at him now, driving to God knows where after his 'loving' brother just pushed him to the ground because 'he was making him look bad.'

He bit his lower lip and loosened his grip and adjusted himself in the drivers' seat. He looked down the Staten Island road. It seemed a little more quiet than usual. There weren't a lot of cars out this time of night, especially at this side of town. He unclenched his jaw and took deep breaths; in through his mouth, out through his nose. He stretched his neck a little, trying to get some of the knots out. Then he just closed his eyes. He kept his grip steady on the wheel; just enough to steer it down the road. He just needed some time to relax. He just needed to calm down and let his anger wash away from him. When he finally felt better, he opened his eyes.

Out of no where, this guy just walked into the road, in the middle of his path.

"SHIT!"

Danny does his best not to swerve, preventing any accident. He pushes all his weight down on the brakes. The man disappears below the hood and from the drivers' view right before he got the car to a complete stop. The sudden halt pushed the blondes' body forward and onto the steering wheel. The pressure to his chest pushed another cuss out of the young man. It should have hurt. But his first instinct was to get out of his car to check on the man he may have just hit.

"Oh my God!" he says as he gets out of his car and walked towards the front of the car closer to the other man. "Are you OK?"

"Humph," was his only reply.

The guy was a marine. 'Shit!' Danny thought to himself. He nearly killed a freaking marine. He walked closer as the man started to stir.

"Are you OK?" he asked again. "Does anything hurt? You think you broke something?"

"No, I don't think so." He answered trying to rest onto his elbows.

The younger man walked towards him. He checked if he was bleeding from any part of his body. He could clearly see his discomfort, but visible injuries. He offers his hand as the older man attempted to stand. He took the strangers' kind gesture and gave a nod of thanks as he helped him up. He could stand, which was a good sign. The blonde gently guided the officer to rest on the hood of his now immobile car.

He leans onto the warm hood. The kind but clumsy stranger holds up his index finger as if to say 'wait here' and he did. The young man went and retrieved the marines' hat, which may have flown a meter of two when he fell to the ground. The stranger hands him his cap and he puts it on, properly topping his uniform.

"Thanks" he says politely.

"Sorry man," Danny apologizes. "I didn't see you there. I wasn't paying attention. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about It." the marine replied. "No one got hurt."

"I can't believe I almost hit a marine." He said dryly.

"But you didn't" he tries to calm the driver down. "You had good control and you didn't hit me. I'm fine."

"Still, I'm sorry man." He repeats himself and gets a warm smile as a reply. "I'm Danny by the way." He introduces himself and extends his hand.

"Mac." He answers and takes his hand gave it a good shake.

The guy had a strong grip, Danny thought. It didn't surprise him, the guy was a marine. These were some of the toughest bastards alive. He must be here for fleet week. Men and women from different armed forces came to shore around this time of the year. But most went to Manhattan or stayed close to New York, rarely came to Staten Island, unless they've got family here. From what he heard or actually didn't hear, Mac didn't seem to have the same regional accent as he did.

He seemed sincere enough, Mac thought. He didn't hit him, which is a good sign. He didn't even just drive off. He actually took the time to step out of his car and help him up. He even apologized. He felt bad for judging a little to quick, he was warned by a couple of people on how New Yorkers can be sometimes. He hasn't met many yet, but this guy seemed to be one of the better ones.

"So, what are you doing here Mac?" the blonde asked after letting go of his hand.

"My platoons' here for about a week. I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about this place." He answered with a smile.

"Oh, first timer." He was now making small talk.

"Yeah, you could call me that." he replied.

They stood there nodding, seeing to it that they let each other know they understood one another. They weren't saying anything, for the lack of anything to say. They didn't know what, and they were left in this awkward pause. It looked as if Mac was actually waiting for Danny to do something. This left the younger man fidgeting in place.

"So, you hungry?" the blue eyed man asked out of the blue as soon as he thought of the question.

"Huh?" he clumsily replied. "Hmm, a little. I just ate this afternoon." He finally answered.

"What?… 1:30am." He replies looking at his watch. "That means you haven't eaten since yesterday."

"Well, you don't have to put it that way." He replied.

"Let me buy you a meal." He offered.

"No," he instantly objected, and regretted sounding a little bit rude. "I just mean that you don't have to do that."

"Pleas, I insist" he said placing his hand on the uniformed shoulder. "I nearly ran you over. The least I could do is feed you."

"No please. It really isn't necessary." He said.

"Well, I think it is." He added. "You should eat."

"No really." He held his open hands in front of him politely.

"Please. Let me." He asked politely. When he saw that Mac was still a little shy he added. "I would have just offered you a drink, but beers in an empty stomach ain't a good combination. I know you'll say I don't have to, but I do… Please, just let me make it up to you."

He was still a little unsure. He didn't feel right making the guy feel like he owed him anything. He really didn't, but from his determined expression Danny wasn't the type to let things just slide. He really genuinely wanted to make things right with him, and he had to admit: he really was hungry.

"Ok." He said reluctantly.

"Ok, you sure?" he wanted to check.

"Yes, why not." He answered. "Free food isn't something I could just pass up anyway."

"Good." He replied pointed to the passenger seat. "Get in."

Both went around the car at different directions; Danny to the driver side and Mac to the passenger side. They got in and drove away.


	2. Chapter 2

The seat was a little warn and torn, but it was pretty comfortable. After nearly getting hit by a car, Mac didn't think he'd end up riding shotgun and be offered a free meal by the driver. This Danny guy was being pretty nice to him. He must really feel guilty about what had just transpired a few moments ago. Apart from being nice, the young man had something about him. The brunette couldn't shake of the feeling of trust he had with the man sitting beside him, and that's something anyone can really say about a man who nearly kills you.

"So, where you from Mac?" the thick Staten Island voice asked breaking the peaceful silence of the car.

"I'm from Chicago." He replied like a marine: polite and direct.

"You don't say, Bears or White Socks?" sports is always a popular small talk topic, Danny thought. It was definitely better than the weather.

"Hmm… actually never really got into baseball too much." he answered honestly. "Didn't have time, but I played back in High School."

"Me to." the blue eyed man replied, his planned chat about the sport now useless. "How you liking New York so far?" he saved the conversation.

"It's been fine." He answered. "The city seems to be a decent place."

"Well we do aim to please." He said mockingly. "How long you've been here?"

"About two days, but it's my first day actually on shore." He replied.

"No kidding." He said. "So you lost or something?"

"Excuse me?" he said curiously.

"I mean you guys normally dock at New York or Manhattan right? How'd you got here to Staten Island?" he asked him.

"Subway." The green-eyed man lets out his subtle, dry humor. "I'm actually on my way to see someone."

"Family?" the driver asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

"You could say that." he answers cryptically, keeping the talk light.

There was another pause. Danny didn't really know how to follow that. He just thought that his new companion was shy. He certainly didn't seem to be a talker. He guessed that was attributed by the other mans' training. 'Speak only when spoken to.' The younger man decides to keep quiet until the other man felt comfortable enough to talk.

"How about you?" Mac said suddenly.

"What about me?" the New Yorker asked, thinking 'that was quick.'

"It just seems to be a little bit late to be driving around in this neighborhood." He explained.

"Well, actually." The younger man starts "I'm actually on my way back home from Jersey. I just crossed the bridge, before I almost 'bumped' into you. I just came from Giant Stadium."

"Giant Stadium?" the brunette asked dubiously. "Is there a late game I don't know about?" he joked.

The younger man chuckles dryly. He didn't know him well enough, but he knew a genuine laugh from a fake one. That definitely was the latter. But he felt that it wasn't to humor him, it was more like he was just trying to be polite. He may have just accidentally step on an eggshell.

"We're here!" The driver announces as he parks his black Lincoln.

"Where exactly is here?" the passenger asked looking out the window.

"We're are 'Carmine's'." he answered with a smile, a genuine one. "It's this little hole in the wall bar and pizza place open all hours of the night. I think you'd like it here."

"Pizza place?" Mac asked with one eyebrow quirked.

"Yeah. I thought you being from Chicago, a fellow city known for its pizza, it would be fitting and polite to bring you here. Let you have a taste of some of the best pizza I know and love." They get out of the car. "Plus, with your uniform, I'm sure old man Carmine'll give you a discount, or at least a free beer." The blonde added with a laugh.

They walked towards the establishment. It seemed normal enough. It had the regular painted window 'Carmine's' in big, cursive, red-white-green letters. The bell rang as Danny opened the door and let him in. The bar was across from them. There were tables and booths to there right. It all felt very… old New York: a candle lit on every table, red and white checkered tablecloths, and what seemed to be paintings from the old country. It was nice.

"Joey!" calling out with a smile.

"Danny!" the bartender replies just enthusiastically.

The few other patrons greeting the young blonde by name, with either a smile or a knowing nod. The older man couldn't help but be reminded of the show "Cheers": where everybody knows your name. They certainly knew Danny. He looked more closely and spots the guys' picture hanging on the wall. He seemed very well liked around here.

"Is old man Carmine still back there?" he asked the barkeeper.

"Yeah, kitchen still open." He answered "You hungry?"

"Yeah, a couple of beers and two slices with everything." He replied. Then turned to his new friend and asked "You want anything on your slice?"

"Nah," he answered "everything sounds good to me."

"Ok, two slices with everything, anything else?" Joey asks and waits for an answer, only being answered by a negative nod. "You know you can order just about anything Dan and pops'll give it to you free of charge." He says before disappearing into the back.

"No thank you. I like deserving only what I get." He answered.

"Please, he'd give you my sister if you'd ask him." he quipped.

"Again, I don't deserve her." he joked.

He turned to Mac and pointed towards the nearest empty booth, and slid in, one facing the other.

"You seem to be quite well known here." The older man said, taking off his hat.

"Yeah, but I don't deserve it." He replies humbly.

"Danilo!" an old, raspy voice with a thick Italian accent exclaimed.

There was this middle age man who emerged from the back room. He was short and stout, but not too fat with an apron around his waist. He walks towards them and the blue-eyed man instinctively stood up ready to greet the man with a friendly hug.

"It's been long." He added. "It's good to see you."

"You too Carmine." He says politely.

"You can call me papa by now. You like a son to me." He says. Then he notices the other man in the booth. "And you brought a friend, a marine? You trying to recruit our Danilo? You won't find anyone better. This good young man… he's hero."

The youngest of the three blushed and gave Mac a humble and friendly expression as if to say 'he exaggerates'. He chats with the older gentleman a bit, but he really couldn't make much of it out because they were talking in Italian. The thought hadn't occurred to Mac. Danny just didn't look like the stereotypical Italian with his blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Sorry about that." he apologizes as he re-entered the booth. "He said the pizza will be ready in a couple of minutes."

"What did he mean that you were a hero?" he asked him.

"You know Italian?" he asked back.

"Enough to understand he called you a hero" he explained "Why?"

"It was nothing, just something that happened a couple of years ago." He says. "I walked in here to get me a slice. Then walks in another guy with a gun. Then while he was busy getting the money, I got the gun away from him."

"Wow," he was impressed. This guy kept surprising him again and again.

"I'm sure it's not as heroic as anything you've done." He said. "I mean you're a freaking marine."

"Yeah but still. That was really good of you Danny." He genuinely complimented him. "You should be proud"

"Thanks." He replied, taken aback by the praise.

He didn't know why but there was something about the way the green-eyed man said that. It just felt important. It made him feel important. He wasn't always appreciated the way he always wanted to be, who is? But Mac did more to him for with that little comment than his family has in the last five years. This reminds him of what had happened earlier with his brother.

"They still seem very grateful for you." he says after seeing Danny's eyes sadden just a bit.

"One of the reasons why I like it here so much…" he said. "Great for an ego boost."

The brunette felt the young man's last comment was more serious than the joke he was trying to pass it off as. He felt compelled to ask but before he could Joey came bringing with him their beers.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks for all the great reviews. I would never have continued the fic without them. I hope you enjoy the rest. D_

* * *

It's been a while since they entered this little Italian place in downtown Staten Island. They've been drinking, eating and making small talk for quite some time now. It was all going pretty well, considering how this all came to be. He didn't know why exactly but he, oddly enough, felt very much at ease with this complete stranger. This just felt light and casual. He's been trained to anticipate the worst but tonight felt like a long deserved rest. It was comfortable. Mac hasn't felt this kind of comfort in a long time.

"Can I ask you something?" the New Yorker asked, staring at the marine sitting in front of him. "What kind of bootcamp training did your stomach go through?"

At first he raised an eyebrow to the question, then he realized he was in the middle of emptying the hot sauce bottle on his second slice of pizza.

"Oh, yes we were." He said. "It's really good." He added just before he took a big bite of the almost dripping with red-hot sauce pizza.

Danny only winced at the thought of what that could taste like. The other man just smiled with wide watery eyes, while the younger man just stared at him with an expression that begged the question 'how the hell could you eat that?' When he finally swallows, he takes a quick swig of his ice-cold beer and gave the other man a triumphant smile. The blonde tries to ignore his display of macho bravado, but it was fun seeing the guy opening up.

"Don't you like spicy food?" he asked him. "Can't handle it?"

"Hey, I can take it just fine, just not that much." he answers. "You can thank my brother for that."

"You have a brother?" Mac asked.

He bit his tongue as he was chewing his own bite, when he realized what he had just said. He mentally kicked himself for bringing it up.

"Hmm, yeah." He choked out. "I've got an older brother."

"Where is he now?" he asked.

"Most probably half way to Atlantic City by now." He answered dryly.

From the tone of his voice, the brunette assumed that that wouldn't be the best topic for conversation, so he didn't press any further.

"How about you." the New Yorker saved the chat. "You got any siblings?"

"No." he answered. "I'm an only child."

"Good for you." he says and raises his bottle in a mock toast.

"I wouldn't say that," the Chicago native said. "There were times where it got pretty lonely being alone. A brother or sister would have been great."

"Huh," he exhales loudly and with definite anger. "Just cause someone has a bigger family doesn't meant they don't get lonely, being lonely and being alone are two different things." He explained, but with less anger. It sounded more like disappointment.

He found himself in another sensitive situation. He didn't want to be in and tried to think of a way to ease it, but not really knowing how. He had to save this conversation.

"How'd you kill the loneliness?" he asked trying to be more positive.

"I wouldn't say I've killed it just yet, still trying to though," he was back to his joking self. "Baseball helped. I played in the minors, even planned on trying-out for the majors."

"Planned?" he asked emphasizing the '-ed'

"When that guy held this place up two years ago, he used my wrist to break a queue-stick over it. It got banged up pretty bad. I just can't throw like I used to." he explained with a disappointed sigh at he end.

'Why can't I make lighter chit-chat?' The marine mentally scolded himself.

"Anyway, lets stop talking about my sad life story." He again saves their talk. He takes a gulp of his beer. "Let's talk about you… How long you've been married?" he asked him out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not married." He answered with one eyebrow up almost asking 'why'd you think I'm married?'

"I'm sorry, I just assumed-" he said, pointing to the gold band around the older man's left ring finger.

"Well, not yet." He corrected "But I will be. When I get back to Chicago Claire and I are getting married. I'm just trying to get used to wearing it." he explained, affectionately touching the ring.

"Claire? That her name?" he asked with a smile.

"Yes, actually…" he said beginning to reach for his back pocket. He takes out his wallet and hands it over to Danny. He opens it. "That's her," the other man said being with pride pointing to the woman in the photograph taking up a side of the wallet.

She had long, curly brown-sugar hair with blonde streaks. Her eyes were greenish-blue. She had high cheekbones and red lips. Her light olive skin glowed and her smile made the picture even brighter.

"She's beautiful, Mac." He tells him with a smile. "Congratulations. You're a lucky man." He hands him his wallet back.

"Thanks." He said, putting his wallet back in his back pocket. "This'll be my last tour. The minute I come back we're getting married, buy a house, maybe start a family."

"Looks like you've got it all planned out." He said. "What'll you do after your tour?"

"Don't know where yet." He answered. "But I'll be a cop."

"A cop?" he said more as a question than a statement. "Oh."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked with a raised brow.

"Nothing," he answered with an apologetic smile. "It suits you. You look like a cop."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He quips.

"As you should." He added.

It was now 3:15 am. They've been in the bar for at least an hour. They've had a couple of beers in them, but they weren't drunk. Their stomachs were filled with some good hot food, in the marine's case red-hot food. All in all, both men were quite satisfied with tonight's events, except for the almost running over and getting killed part. They were exiting 'Carmine's' and found themselves on the sidewalk next to Danny's car.

"Thanks for that." he tells the younger man.

"No problem, so wee cool now? I mean you forgive me for what almost happened earlier?" he asked with hands up in surrender.

"We're good." He replies with an open hand towards him.

The blonde takes it and gives it a good shake. "So, you heading back on board?" he asked when he lets go.

"Actually, I still have to be somewhere." He answers.

"What? Now?" he exclaimed "Where?"


	4. Chapter 4

"There's just someone I have to meet." He answers, then turns to leave. "Bye Danny,"

"Wait," he calls out to him. "I'm coming with you." he followed him.

"You really don't need to do that." he tells the young man.

"I didn't need to buy you dinner either, but I did." He continues to follow the brunette. He tries to protest but before he could Danny insists. "Listen Mac, there is no way I'm letting you walk in the early morning in a city you've only been in for half a day. It ain't safe."

"You really think anyone's out there dumb enough to attack a marine?" he asked rhetorically.

"All I know is anything can happen to anyone at anytime anywhere." He tells him. The older man doesn't reply and just continues to walk away from him, but he only follows. "I know you can take care of yourself, but I would never be able to forgive myself if I let something bad happen to you… let me at least walk you there." He pleads. He grabs his arm and moves the green-eyed man to look at him. "Let me walk you there."

He looks at the pair of aquamarine eyes critically, looking for any sign of insincerity. He couldn't find any. He was serious. He was even more impressed and a little annoyed by this. This was a really good kid who only had his heart in the right place.

"Ok." He finally agrees "What about your car?"

"I'm pretty tired. I've just had a couple of drinks and before this I nearly ran you over. You really think it's a good idea for me to drive right now?" he asked rhetorically. "I'll just pick it up tomorrow. I've left it here before. Joey can take care of it." He added not waiting for him to answer.

They start to walk until they reach the end of the street.

"Where are we going anyway?" the New Yorker asked.

"Not yet sure," he answers looking at the street signs. He takes out a piece of paper from his pocket. "323 Edmund street."

"Edmund street? That's pretty nearby. It just a couple of blocks from here." He informed him.

"You mind showing me the way?" he asked politely.

"Sure, no problem." He answers and turns to their left "Lets go."

They walked silently together. Side-by-side, Danny just a couple of steps further leading the way, while Mac followed closely behind. He looks at the young man he's following and wonders why he's doing this. He couldn't even fully understand the meal, let alone this new offer of more help.

It was quiet. It didn't feel like an awkward kind of silence. It just felt fine. He's so grateful that things didn't turn out for the worst. After the fight with his brother he wouldn't be able to handle anything more. There was something he couldn't fully understand. He nearly kills this guy and he's treated him better than some of his family members. Maybe he was just trying to be polite like he's been trying to make amends. It wasn't the same, but it felt good having someone treating him with respect. It just felt better.

He looked at him and thinks about what he's just learned about him. He's a young man who's, most probably, had a rough childhood. He has tried running away from it all and be a baseball player, but was not able to when he got injured trying to do the right thing. He sacrificed his dream; more like it was taken away from him, for the safety and well being of others. In the usual standards you would be able to regard him as a good young man, clearly someone who always had their heart in the right place. He normally wouldn't be so trusting on a stranger, but slowly this New Yorker wasn't a stranger to him anymore.

"It wasn't anything negative you know." The civilian breaks his silence, but didn't turn to look at his companion.

"What wasn't negative?" he asked, startled by the declaration.

"The way I reacted when you told me you were going to be a cop." He explained. "I just thought it was kind of weird."

"Me wanting to be a cop?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah," he answers honestly and crosses the street. "On account that I've been thinking of being one too." He admitted.

"You want to be a cop?" he asked, crossing the street along with him. "Since when?"

"Ever since I couldn't be a baseball player" he answered. "I never wanted to be anything else but be one of the Mets, but after what happened I just couldn't be that anymore."

"So from baseball to criminology?" he stated it as less of a question.

"Well yeah, I mean no… That night at Carmine's I got to do something. I got to do something right for a change, and it was something right for someone else. It just felt good. I just thought that maybe my dream of becoming a pitcher was just replaced to becoming a cop." He explained. His face couldn't be seen but the passion was thick in his voice.

"Why not go into the Academy?" the other man suggested. "You're still young. You'd make a good cop."

"Yeah, be a cop." He repeated sarcastically. "If only it were that easy."

"What's stopping you?" he asked.

"Its because becoming a cop is like a personal request to be disowned in my family. It'll only get me into more trouble." He explained, then turned the corner.

"Why is that?" he asked, then turned to follow him.

"My family isn't exactly the most justly of people." He informed the officer. He heard the other man stop. He turned to look why he did and was greeted by an expression that asked curiously. 'What do you mean by that?' he takes a step closer to the older man and said, "We're connected."

"What, like the mob?" he asked jokingly.

"Kind of." He answered matter-a-factly. He turned and continued to walk down the sidewalk. "They haven't gotten me into trouble… yet"

He walks a little more briskly to catch up with him. "But they can?" he asked.

"Yeah." He answered with a bit of worry. "Even more so if I become a cop."

"But you want to be?" he asked. "A cop I mean?"

"Yes." He exclaimed as he stopped dead on his tracks.

"Then be a cop." He told him. This caused the blue-eyed young man to turn to him. His face a little wrinkled with a brow up, an expression begging the question 'Are you crazy?' Mac places his hand on the other man's shoulder and said. "I don't know what to tell you Dan, but do what you want to do, be what you want to be as long as you can live with the consequences."

The man in uniform continues to walk down the street, but just a couple of steps. When he finally notices that his tour guide didn't move, he turned and asked him "What is it?"

"We're here." He tells him. This again makes the officer give him a questioning look. Then his guide pointed to the building he was standing in front of. "This is 323 Edmund Street."


	5. Chapter 5

They both looked up at the four-story duplex. It stood on red bricks and had dirty white ledges that framed the roof, windows and stoop. It had a dark green door with the numbers "323" in silver lettering. Not one window was lit. They could clearly assume that everyone was asleep or no one was home.

"Not the best time for a visitor." The Danny said lightly.

Mac was about to reply when they heard a little boy shout. "Mommy!!" Both men panicked and wondered what was going on. They saw the 3rd floor window to the right blinked on. Then a few seconds later they saw the left of the same floor, where the scream sounded like it came from, blink on as well.

The uniformed gentleman crossed the street to get a better point of view. His civilian companion followed him.

"What happened?" the blue-eyed young man asked.

The other man didn't reply. He didn't need to. He just looked up and the other man looked at the same 3rd floor window on the left. They could see an older man holding young boy in his arms. Then a woman came into view with a glass of water, which she offered to the little boy.

"He must have had a bad dream or something." He said, again he didn't get a reply.

The man looked like in his late thirties. He had dark hair with just a hint of graying. The woman may have been around the same age. She had shoulder length curly red hair. The boy in their care looked like he was about six years old. He was in his pajamas and his head was tucked under the man's chin. He hid his face as the two adults were cooing and whispering to him as he slowly relaxed.

"Good looking family." The blonde said. "Reminds me of those folks who smile too much in catalogs." He added sarcastically.

"I know you don't have the best point of reference, but don't have to be so cynical?" he asked rhetorically, finally answering his friend.

"Sorry, must just be a little j-." He answered.

"Jealous?" He asked, still looking up at the window.

"Jaded, but yeah, maybe a little bit." He answered honestly. "Like you said, I didn't have the best point of reference… I doubt that they really should have ever been." He added cryptically.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, curiously looking at him.

"I just remembered being very young and my uncles ignoring me. I specifically heard one of them refer to me as _illegittimo._" He explained.

"You mean?"

"Illegitimate child, a bastard." He said. "I didn't know it at the time, but my mommy had an affair less than a year before I was born, and the fact that I came out not looking like one of them didn't help me either… Honestly I think the only thing I ever got from my family is their last name, which sucks for me." He explained.

This was a really hard thing for him to talk about. He didn't know why he was telling this to a complete stranger. He hadn't even told anyone that he wanted to be a cop. He knew he was looking like chicken shit right now, and it was by choice. He just didn't know why. Why he felt like he could talk to him?

From the sound of his voice, the older man figured that this has been building up in him for a while. Maybe he's never been able to talk about any of this with anyone else before. He didn't know why he was talking to him, but he felt responsible to try to make it better for him.

"You know, families don't have to be perfect to work." He replied. "I mean just look at them." He added, nodding to the family up behind the window.

"Yeah, what's wrong with them?" he asked sarcastically. "They don't look very imperfect to me."

"He looks like his mother, don't you think?" he asked. The younger man didn't know how to answer that. The question just seemed to have come out of no where. He made that same clueless face that asked 'huh?' The older man didn't have to look at him. "The boy looks like his mother." he added.

This compels the young man to look again and closer this time, at the mystery family in 323 Edmund Street. The boy's face was now visible, but it was still slumped on his dad's, he assumed, shoulder. His head was covered with a mop of brown curls. His face was small and pudgy like what you'd expect from a child. He smiled at that thought that the kid looked like a doll position the way he was. The boy's mother, another assumption, was rubbing his back and whispering in his ear. She had wavy Irish red hair, the type that would remind you of an open fire. He looked at them and couldn't see the resemblance. They hardly looked like each other. He didn't know what his marine friend was talking about.

"What do you mean?" he asked him.

"I mean he looks a lot like his mother." he said, not breaking his sight of the boy. "His biological mother." he added. The blue-eyed young man was again speechless. He looks at the boy again and sees it: the hair, the nose maybe even his eyes. He did look like his mom, now he understood what Mac was saying, but before he could say anything the other man took the words right out of his mouth. "That's Claire's son."

_Reed makes a very early appearance_


	6. Chapter 6

"Your fiancée?" he asked cautiously. He meant it to be rhetorical, but it didn't sound that way, and the other man just nodded a positive reply. "Is he yours too?"

"No, she had him before we even met." He informed the young man. "She was young and in love, or just lust as she called it. He, her ex, left her when he found out she was pregnant… She was alone. She was just too young and wasn't ready to be a mother, so she gave him up for adoption."

"How'd you find out?" he asked him.

"She told me." He answered. "Before she said yes to my proposal she told me about it. She said she didn't want me to marry someone I didn't completely know."

"Wow." He said. "That takes guts."

"Yeah, one of the things I just love about her." he replies.

"That took a lot of trust." The New Yorker added. "To be able to say something that could risk either hurting or losing someone, that takes a lot of trust. She must really love you."

"She was scared when she told me. She was scared of how I'd react. I had to reassure her that she could trust me. She hadn't even told her folks. I had to let her know that I would accept anything that she was anything that she had to go through in her past. I could understand, and if I didn't I'd try." He explained. "I had to convince her I love her too."

"I'm guessing she was convinced?" The blonde said, referring to the ring.

"Yeah," he answered shakily, fumbling with the gold band. "It took some time, but she finally said yes."

"So what now?" he asked.

"She agreed to marry me." He answered. "So we will."

"Not that… I mean now." He corrected him. "What are you doing now? What are you doing here?"

"Honestly, I don't know." He replied, actually getting a little choked up. He wasn't the type of man who showed his emotions well, so the feign teary eyes, the fidgeting in place and lack of eye contact were the only signs of his confusion and uneasiness, but they were clear enough for the younger man. "She told me she knew the adoptive family lived in Staten Island New York. I checked around, did some research and found this address. Not even sure till now."

"How can you be sure this is it?" he asked.

"It has to be." He answered desperately. "That's Claire's son. I'm sure of it."

"Why?" was all the other man could ask.

"What do you mean why?" he asked.

"I mean why go through all of that?" he asked. "Why did have to go through all that trouble to look for him?"

"I really don't know. I hadn't figured that out yet." He explained. "I only got to thinking about finding him, not sure what to do now."

Danny wasn't certain, but he felt that this guy wasn't the type of person that would be uncetain very often. He couldn't see Mac being unsure of anything. This made it clear that this was really uncharted water for the older man.

"What did you want to know?" he asked plainly.

"I guess I wanted to know what he looked like." He answered. "I wanted to see him for my own two eyes, if he really existed. I wanted to see if he came out looking like her." he added with a smile.

"Do you want to tell him something?" He asked just as plainly. "What do you want him to know?"

"What his mother told me." He answered. "I want him to know that his mom loves him, still does and always will. I want him to know that it was really hard for her to give him up. She couldn't even let him go with out naming him. She knew it may not be his legal name, but she just had to name him. She named him Andrew, after her late father… She would have kept him if she felt that she could, if she felt that it was the best for him, but she knew it wasn't. She knew he deserved better. She didn't want him to suffer because she couldn't take proper care of him… And that not a day goes by that she doesn't wonder what it could have been like to really be his mother… not just give birth to him but actually parent him." Then a teardrop fell from the edge of his chin and quickly wiped it clean.

He could only see his profile, but he didn't need to look at the brunette to know what he was feeling. He didn't need to see him shyly wipe his cheek to know what he was crying. He didn't need anything else but his voice to know that the man next to him meant every word he just said.

"I even thought I could invite him and his parents to the wedding. I thought I could surprise Claire by having her only son as our ring-bearer." He said with a smile, then it turned into a sarcastic frown "I can't believe how I was this stupid. God, what was I thinking." He added.

"What is it? What's wrong?" he asked the now unstable officer.

"I wasn't thinking?" He rhetorically asked himself. "I wasn't. I shouldn't have come." Then he suddenly picked his feet up and walked pass the other man, carelessly shoving him and leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Hey," he called out to him and chased him down the street. "Where you going?"

"Back. I should never have come. I wasn't thinking. This was a big mistake." He said, picking up his pace.

He was now briskly striding down the sidewalk, running away from the man he had dinner with no less than 45 minutes ago. When the younger man kept following him he began to pick up speed. It came to the point of almost running, but not quite, down the quiet and dark streets of Staten Island. He made quick turns, crossed streets to God know where, and the other man could only follow him, and he did. The only sounds that could be heard were of the usual New York urban nightlife and their feet against the pavement.

'What the fuck was this guy doing?' Danny asked himself. He was new to the place. He had no where close to go and the only place he can go to is at least one subway ride away. Why the hell was he running? What was he running from? What the hell happened to him?

"Stop running!" He yells as he grabs the older man's arm. He just shrugs it off and continued his long and quick strides.

He wasn't running away from him. He wasn't actually running because Mac Taylor doesn't run away. He was too proud to run, but he was avoiding this. Avoiding was his only way of dealing with these kinds of situations.

He was the only connection he had, the only person he could trust and talk to right now, and he was running away from him. He was running to no where, and fast. He had no idea what he was doing and where he was going. All he knew was that he couldn't be here. He shouldn't be here. He had to leave.

"Mac, stop." Danny shouted.

* * *

_Thanks for all the great reviews I'll do my best to write my best... D_

_For Tenka-Chan: I'm sorry, but Claire's nothing but a silent character. I'm not comfortable with writing for someone I don't know, but I hope you like the direction of the story._


	7. Chapter 7

They were crossing their fourth street and Danny was getting tired. He may have been a few years younger than the man he was following, but the latter was far more trained and physically fit. The fact that the New Yorker was a smoker didn't help him with his pursuit either.

He didn't know why he was doing this. He didn't know why the guy just bolted and ran away. He didn't know why he reacted the way he did. What he did know was that he needed to stop him, at least enough to calm him down to a slower pace.

This reminded him of one night back when he was still stationed in Al Amara, Iraq. His good friend and comrade, Pvt. Matthew Prew, were buddied up and checked what looked like at the time was an abandoned house. The fellow marine volunteered to walk in first thus was caught in the receiving end of a shower of bullets. Mac would be dead by now if it weren't for him. He didn't just take a bullet from him; he took a dozen and died in the brunette's arms.

The following morning he had to wrap his head around the fact that Prew died. He had to accept it. He had to suck it up. He had to get over it quick. He couldn't do what he was suppose to do if he was too busy mourning. He knew he needed to be ready. He had to be strong. He didn't talk about it, didn't feel like he could, not to anyone. So he did what he did best, he worked and worked some more. When he was told to take a break he reluctantly did, by running. He ran six miles that day, twelve if you consider his running back to camp before it got too dark. He just had to do something, any…

"What the… umph." His train of thought was broken when he found himself toppled over on the ground, with a familiar man down beside him gasping. He felt something tangled around his ankle. He looks to his feet and saw the other man's foot stepping on his own.

"You tripped me?" he asked in a confused and angry tone, finding his breath for his voice.

"Yes I did." He replied as victoriously as he could while taking quick deep breaths. Then he began to stand up.

"Why?" the marine asked, his tone not wavering, as he picked himself up.

"Because I ain't a big fan of running." He answered as he patted the dirt of his clothes.

"I wasn't running." He was quick to defend his pride.

"Fine." He sarcastically agreed. "You were speed walking."

They took their time. There was this tense pause in the cold night air between them. It took them a while to actually talk to each other again. The blue-eyed man waited for the clearly unstable and angry officer.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said in between deep breaths.

"I'm not asking you to," he said firmly, trying to catch his breath.

There was another pause, as if he needed the time to digest what he had just said.

"Why did you trip me?" he asked again, in the same tone.

"Because you were run-" he answered, just before he could finish what he was saying was quickly corrected by a furious glare from the other man. "Walk, you were walking to only God knows where in a neighborhood you've only known as long as me."

He let the words sink in before he replied. "Why is this any of your concern?"

The aquamarine eyed young man takes his time before answering his question. He looks at him, trying not to react to his first clear sight of the man's anger "Because it's no one else's." he answered in words he felt the man would have said to him if he asked the same question. He doesn't reply, but his face considerably softens. "The subway is just a couple of blocks away from here… Walk you there?" he asked carefully.

"I can manage." He replied, standing up straight.

"Don't even try to stop me," he quickly quipped. "You know for a fact I'm a stubborn son of a bitch."

It took a couple of seconds but the stubborn New Yorker was replied by a small nod of blatant acceptance to his second offer of guidance. The emerald-eyed man let out his hand to the direction of the city sidewalk as if to sarcastically say 'lead the way'. He doesn't react, but only starts to walk, slowly and easily, down the street.

They weren't talking. Who could blame them? The New Yorker felt he had to keep his mouth shut and just wait for him to break the silence, only if and when he wanted to, until they reached that familiar sunken staircase that leads into the depths of the city.

Like he said, he didn't want to talk about it, but now he felt regret for saying that so harshly, not just to Danny but for himself. He normally wouldn't talk, not about this and not to just anyone, but now he wanted to. He felt that he needed to, but he could be so hardheaded. He just needed to say something, anything.

"What time is it?" he couldn't think of anything else.

He didn't turn to answer him, but the brunette could picture that one brow up curiously. "4:20." He replied.

He only nodded. 'What now?' he asked himself a question only he could answer. He finally mustered up the courage and swallowed his pride. "I'm sorry Dan." He whispered "I didn't mean to be like that. I wasn't mad at you."

"That's what I get for tripping a U.S. marine." He joked, which actually made the other man smile, and they were left in a comfortable pause, which did not last. "You want to know what I think?" he asked cautiously, still not making eye contact.

"I'm sure you still will even if I told you I didn't." he quipped back. "But sure, what do you think?"

"When someone asks themselves 'what was I thinking?' It normally involves some sort of revelation." He explains "You realized something, something you're ashamed of… what was it?"

He thinks of what was being asked of him. He remembers what he was thinking at the first sight of Andrew and his foster family. "I wasn't thinking about Andrew." He answered, like it was a shameful and stupid oversight.

The younger man felt this was Mac's turn to talk about his sad life story, at least a portion of it. He knew it would take some time. He gave the other man some space and chose to lean back on the nearest street light. The brunette chose to hide in someway opting to lean back onto the brick wall across the other man, where the light only exposed his profile.

"I was so stupid." He said with spite. "I was so busy thinking of how all of this would change things for me and Claire. I was thinking of what I had to do and how much work I had to put into this so that he won't feel bad, so he wouldn't have a hard time getting along with Claire." He breaks his eye contact, searching for the words he tries to say, the looks back. "What I didn't consider was what he might want. I failed to question if Andrew would accept Claire and me at all. What would I be doing to him? Would I be reuniting him with his biological mother? Or would I only destroy the only family he's ever known." He explained. "I was so busy thinking about what this could do to me. I wasn't thinking of what this could do to him."

"That's not why you came here." The blue eyed young man tries to console him. "You didn't come all the way here to destroy this kids childhood."

"But I could have." He replied angrily, finally moving closer into the light, exposing his tear stained face. "I came this close-" He held his right hand up with his index and thumb fingers mere centimeters from each other. "-This close to ruining a 6 yr. Olds' life. You saw how happy they were. I could have ruined that"

"But you didn't" he cut him off. "You had good control and you didn't hurt anyone. Everything's fine." He repeated the older man's words back to him.

"He," he actually laughed a little. He smiled at how those words could easily lighten his mood. He's been putting himself under a lot of pressure. He's been stressing about this ever since he got the address. He was actually surprised that he found himself eating, when Danny took him to 'Carmine's'. He just realized how desperate he's been for a good laugh.

The blonde closed the space between them and reached to the other man's shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. He smiles at him and said. "Mac, your reasons for coming were all well and good. You wanted to invite a son back into his real mother's life. It wasn't to do anything bad. You had good intentions and your heart is in the right place." He reminded him. "And before anything could've happen, before you might have hurt someone you stopped yourself. Nothing happened. You didn't do anything wrong. You didn't ruin anybody's life. You didn't destroy his family."

"But-" he was about to disagree.

"No, not buts." He cut him off. "Stop beating yourself up for something you didn't do."

They were quiet again. The green eyed man only shrugged and nodded, slowly accepting what he was told as it began to sink in. He finally looks at the other man and was greeted with a soft and encouraging smirk, the type that said 'everything's alright.' And he believed it.

"Thanks Dan," he sincerely told him.

"No problem." He replied. "Lets get you home." Then with an arm around the other man's shoulder began to continue their walk to the subway station..


	8. Chapter 8

The familiar green archway with a lit sign was just down the sidewalk. The light coming from underneath breaks the dark City Street. It was this bright eye sore that was even brighter because of its white tiled walls. It was now just a couple of steps away. In a lot of ways, it signaled the end of the night.

It was almost 5 in the morning and he knew by 7am everything will be back to normal. He'll walk back home, where his mother will be nagging him about where his brother was. His pops will most likely be drunk, asleep or both. Mac will be on the next train to wherever his platoon may be docked. Maybe he'll spend the rest of his fleet week sight seeing, highly unlikely but he could only hope the marine would actually have some fun before he leaves for another war zone. Whatever may happen, he knows this'll be the end of it.

"There's something else I would have liked Andrew to know, or at least his adoptive family." The brunette broke the silence, again he normally wouldn't talk this much, but he felt he might as well after what happened earlier.

"What would that be?" the other man asked curiously.

"I wanted him to know that it would have been ok." He answered. "I've heard Claire say she'd want to look for him when he turns 18." The other man just nodded. "If he decides to look for Claire, he wouldn't be unwelcome. If he has questions or if he needed anything from us. We'd be happy to help him."

"Maybe he'll just take you for that offer." The blonde said as he kindly slung his arm around the brunette's shoulder. "I can't vouch for him personally, but any kid would have questions. You don't know. One day, in a couple of years, you and Claire might just get a call from him."

"You think I should let them know it would be ok?" he asked genuinely confused. "For me and Claire."

"Personally… I don't think you should." He replied and put took back his arm and put both hands in his pockets. "I just think you should let him decide if he wants to look for you. If you just give him this open invitation, he might feel obligated to search you out." He explained delicately, not wanting the other man to take his words for the worst. He waits for any sign of a reply and only gets a nod and a look of sincere understanding. "But that's just me…"

It took a while. The marine wasn't normally this confused. "You think so?" he asked.

The younger man shrugs with a looked almost like a perplexed child. The other man was just about to take that as his only reply, when he said. "A wise man once told me: 'do what you want to do. Be what you want to be as long as you can live with the consequences'."

"Are you going to repeat everything I've told you tonight?" he asked in a jokingly annoyed way.

"Not everything" he replied playfully. "But they're good words."

The two smiled to each other as the reach the bright white sunken stairway. Both men looked at it like it was the first time they've ever seen one. In a way it was the first time they've ever seen it in this situation: the end.

"So this is It.," the uniformed man said.

"This is It." he repeated.

The green-eyed man turns to him and raises his hand out for one last handshake. "Thanks for…" he searches for the right word. "…Tonight."

He takes the older man's hand in his and gives it a respectable shake. "Don't mention."

They let go of each other. The marine turns to the subway and slowly, but carefully descend the tiled stairway. The New Yorker was just about to turn around when.

"Danny." That familiar voice calls him out. He got his attention and looks at the older man standing in the middle of the stairs turned to face him. "I meant what I said." He, at first, doesn't understand. The other man said a lot of things. "About family. It doesn't have to be perfect to work."

The words reminded him of the Andrew's family in 323 Edmund Street. He remembers the heartwarming image of the doll like figure being comforted. He feels a tightening grip of that green-eyed monster in his chest. He was jealous. "Yeah, well I think my family's imperfections is beyond workable." He said with a disappointed sigh. "Andrew's lucky, he's got a good family."

"Yeah he does." He agreed. "Maybe you'll find yours."

The last statement causes the blue eyed man to make that same questioning face and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, Andrew found his family." He answered as he grabbed the steel railing. "It may not be his biological family, but they love him and they're good to him. He wasn't born into it. They found him… If he can find his, you'll find yours."

"What, you mean like find a girl? Settle down? Have me some of my own?" he asked a little sarcastically. "Don't mean to offend you Mac, but you're starting to sound like my mother." he joked.

He only smiles. "I do mean that, but I don't just mean that." he replied. The slightly cryptic reply got the younger man's more serious attention. "I mean, we'll meet a lot of people in our lifetime. I just met you tonight. There's going to be a lot of people in our lives. Contrary to popular belief; we can chose our own family. We don't have to be born into them. We could just meet them." He explained. "We'll meet people. Some bad, but the good ones, the really good ones, we'll want to be a part of our lives, and I'm sure someone will want you to be a part of theirs." He said with a smile.

He didn't know it then, but those few simple and sincere words were what the younger man's been waiting to hear ever since he needed to hear them. It pulled at his heartstrings. It even got him a little choked up. He'd never let the other man see him weak, but he hoped that Mac could see the appreciation on his face.

It wasn't like his earlier grins and smirks. His smile was smaller this time, but in a way it made it all the more sincere. Most of his expressions of the night were genuine, but this felt more. The brunette couldn't explain it. It was like seeing someone smile for the first time. He knew he did something right. He only hoped that it was enough to make up for what the New Yorker's done for him in the pass four hours.

"Thanks Mac." He said.

"Don't mention It." he replied.

The civilian shrugged his shoulder and gave the other man a knowing nod, which the marine replied with the same act. They didn't need to say anything now. They've said what everything they've needed to.

The brunette lets go of the railing and turned back into the depths of the city. The blonde stays until the other man's figure disappears into tile sunken stairway. It took a couple of seconds, but he couldn't see him anymore.

They may never see each other again, but whatever happens after this. Tonight would be the night both men met a stranger and gained a friend.

_Hey! Thank you so much for all the positive feed back. This really helped me in my confidence in writing. I'm an amateur, wannabe writer._

_I actually planned this to be the end of he fic, but if I get requests for a sequal I'd be happy to write something. I really want to, but only if you guys want to read it. Please tell me what you think._

_BM D_


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